


Questions

by Atiaran



Series: Family / History [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Family, Family Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 02:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atiaran/pseuds/Atiaran
Summary: Scout asks Heavy how to say something in French.  Brief follow-up to my story "Reflections."





	Questions

**Standard disclaimer:** None of the Team Fortress 2 characters, places, etc. in this story are mine but are the property of Valve. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story.

**Author's note:** Very brief followup to my previous TF2 fic _Reflections._ Kind of background material for a possible later TF2 fic. Unbetaed -- this was so short and inconsequential I didn't feel like bothering my beta with it.

* * *

The stars were out, shining above Teufort in the night sky like chips of ice. Scout and Heavy were up on the battlements keeping watch. Heavy had brought a stack of Sandviches and was sharing them, while Scout gulped at his Bonk! Cola

“How you drink that stuff I do not know,” Heavy said, shaking his head. “Give me tea any day.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till ya try it,” Scout returned smartly.

“No. _You_ try. I stick with tea.”

“Suit yaself.” Scout leaned back in his chair, taking another gulp of cola. They were high up enough that bugs humming in the air couldn’t reach them; a slight breeze stirred and cooled the night. Scout gazed out over the battlements, pondering. After a moment, he said, “Yo, Heavy.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t suppose … “ He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you know any French?”

“Had to learn for doctorate,” Heavy responded. “Why?”

“I was wonderin’ … “ Scout studied his Bonk! can closely. “I was, ah, wonderin if maybe you could, um, if … if maybe ya could tell me how ta say somethin’ in French.”

He risked a glance up to find the big man studying him shrewdly. “Why you ask me this, eh? Why not – “ He jerked a thumb in the direction of the barracks “ – instead?”

“Cause I … ah … I guess I kinda … wan’ it ta be a surprise,” Scout confessed awkwardly, looking back down at his can.

“Surprise, you say?”

“Yeah. I mean – you, Medic an Engie are probly the smahtest people on the team, so I jus’ thought – but I mean, if you doan’ wanna, that’s fine, it was probly a dumb idea anyway … “ Scout trailed off. He heard the creak of Heavy’s chair as the giant man shifted his weight.

“Well, tell me what it is, and I will see.”

“I was wonderin’ how ta say, ah … how ta say … “ Scout turned his can around in his hands.

“Yes?”

“I … “ Scout swallowed. “First promise ya won’t laugh. _Promise_ me.”

Heavy regarded him. “I will not laugh. I give word.”

“I mean it, Heavy, if you laugh at me, I’ll – “

“I said no laugh. Go on.”

“Tell me how ta say, ah, h-how ta say … “ Scout drew a breath and let it out, trying to summon his courage. _C’mon, you talk all the time, getting’ this out should be easy._ “Tell me how t-ta s-say, um …. ‘F-Father.’”

He cringed inwardly, waiting for Heavy to burst out in peals of hilarity, but the big man did not. Those piercing blue eyes studied Scout for a moment longer; then Heavy shrugged.

“’Father?’ Is easy. ‘Père.’ ‘Mon père’ for ‘my father’ or to say, hm … ‘daddy,’ would be ‘Papa.’”

Scout looked up at him. “Peer? Mahn peer?”

“Close.” Heavy patiently corrected Scout’s pronunciation through several repetitions until he finally nodded. “Better. You learn quick.”

“Hey, I’m Scout, I do everything quick!” Scout shot back, then stopped and thought for a moment. “Well – not everything, you undahstand,” he corrected hastily, and heard Heavy’s deep, deliberate chuckle.

“You say to him?” Heavy asked, nodding again in the direction of the barracks.

“Thinkin’ about it,” Scout admitted sheepishly. “Not sure I’m gonna do it yet, an’ anyway, I gotta find the right time.”

“Is good. He will like to hear it from you. Even if he does not show it.”

“I know. But don’t you tell him, okay?”

“I will not tell.” Heavy stretched his feet out in front of him, sliding the plate of Sandviches over to Scout, who took one. An unaccustomed seriousness fell over him. “Good seeing you become friends with Spy. Family is important.”

Scout shook his head. “I dunno. I just dunno. I mean … he didn’t act like it was foh 27 yeahs of my life, ya know?”

“Can be fearful thing, to have child,” Heavy said calmly. “Especially if life free before. Some not ready.”

“But if he’d been around – I mean, he coulda even _wrote_ or something. He didn’t even leave me a lettah or nothin, like in all those stories about orphans on people’s doorsteps. If I’d known it was him, it just – I mean, it woulda explained so _much._ My dad – I mean, th’ guy I thought was my dad – I nevah knew ‘im, he died befoah I was born, but I seen pictures. He was – “ Scout gestured vaguely. “A big guy. Big, big, _big_ guy. Six foot five, huge shouldahs – my ma always said he could lift her up ovah his head with one hand. She usedta have a picture of him doin jus’ that – he’s holdin heh up in da air, an’ she’s laughin an’ dey’re smilin at each othah, an … “ Scout trailed off for a moment. “My bruddahs, dey’re all big guys too, jus’ like him. I could nevah undahstand why was _I_ da weedy liddle runt of the family? I kept waitin ta grow some moah an’ it nevah happened. Not – but not jus’ dat, I mean – Everyone always said my dad was a pretty calm guy, always kept his cool, da only thing dat could make ‘im really angry was hurtin’ people he cared about. My bruddahs are all like dat too, so why do _I_ get mad so easy? Why am I so – I always gotta be movin’, always _doin’_ somethin’, always gotta see what’s new or what’s comin’ next, not like my bruddahs at all – I just could nevah undahstand why I was so _different?_ If I’d just known, den maybe – “

“Know now,” Heavy offered.

“Yeah, I guess.” Scout grimaced, then swallowed painfully. “Why … why didn’t Ma _tell_ me?” 

Heavy shrugged. “Maybe she not want you … hm, how to say … not want you feel bad. Not to have you think father not want you, not stay and care for you. Seen this before. Very bad, bad hurt in children’s little hearts. Maybe she think, better you believe father dead, than father run away.”

Scout considered that. “Yeah. I guess dat makes sense. You – you know how my dad died, right?”

“You never say.”

“He was with da Boston Fiah Depahtment. One night an abandoned house caught on fiah. Dere was some homeless guys squattin’ in deah, an’ Dad went in ta get ‘em out. Da house collapsed on top a’ him. Da mayor gave him a commendation – whaddaya call it, post – post – ah, post-humorous?” Scout guessed. “Somethin’ like dat. Means aftah death. Ma kept it in heh dressah drawer. She usedta show it to us sometimes. Growin’ up, I would get upset ‘cause it seemed like everyone else had a dad an’ I didn’t, but then, I would think, well, my dad was a hero, an’ it kinda made me feel a little bettah. I dunno _what_ I woulda thought if my ma had tol’ me dat he was a coward who ran out on me.”

The last words came out rough; Scout glanced away, somewhat embarrassed by the real emotion behind them. Heavy shifted in his chair again.

“Spy is not coward,” he said with great deliberateness. “Many things, but not coward.”

“Sometimes it sure feels dat way.”

“Different kinds of courage. Face bullets, easy when young. Care for family, easier when older. Some can do right from start. Some have to grow into. No one can fix past. But Spy is trying now, change future. Make up for what he did not do when younger. He wants to make it right.” 

Scout sighed. “Yeah. He said da same thing ta me – dat all he can do is try ta do bettah.”

Heavy nodded. “Yes. If he can do better – is up to you. If you will let him.” He fixed Scout with a meaningful look. 

“I know. It ain’t easy. But I mean – “ Scout tightened his fist on his can of cola. “Ma always said, everyone deserved a chance ta fix their mistakes. I guess – I guess, dat means him too.”

“Mother was very wise.”

“Yeah.” Scout’s eyes suddenly prickled, he blinked furiously for a moment, swallowing down a lump in his throat. “She was.”

“If you say this thing, _mon père, _to him, tell me, eh? Would like to know.”

“I will,” Scout promised. “An’ – an’, Heavy?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. Foh – foh not laughin’ at me.”

Heavy said nothing, but smiled briefly. He reached out and squeezed Scout on the shoulder with one huge hand. Then leaned back in his chair again and turned his attention over the railing, a dark silhouette under the brilliant night sky.


End file.
